Jar of Hearts
by Full-mind-empty-mouth
Summary: Britain and America get shrunk and put in a bottle. France decides to mess with them because we all know France is the main UsUk shipper ;)


America woke up to find himself curled around England. The first thought in his head was that he'd gotten very drunk and slept with England, but he immediately discounted that, England would never.

He noticed that he also was lying on glass above a wooden floor in a massive room. He stood up to investigate but found a glass barrier in his way. He tried the other direction, attempting to step over England but accidentally tripped over him and fell, hands slapping into the glass on the other side. England woke up, pushing himself up to a sitting position. When he saw his surroundings the prepared aggressive question of "what the bloody hell are you doing?" Died in his throat, he had no words for being in an empty glass jar or bottle.

America looked up to find a cork above them. They were trapped together in a glass bottle. "Dude what's happening?" America asked. "We're stuck in a bottle you bloody idiot!" England said, assuming that America didn't know. "I know but why are we here?" America asked. "Don't look at me! It was probably one of your stupid experiments." England said, standing up. There was barely enough room for the two of them.

Before America could retort the ground they stood on started to shake. England and America braced themselves against the sides of the bottle, both wondering if it was an earthquake. They stood face to face, backs against the glass with their arms outstretched, their hands almost at the others body. England could touch America's stomach if he really stretched his arms and America was almost touching England's shoulders. There was so little room in that small bottle.

England watched a massive man approach them. Seeing England's eyes focussed on something behind him, America turned around.

"Yo rock on dude! A real life giant!" America yelled, excited.

"Don't be daft America, we're just wee." England corrected.

The man stopped in front of the bottle and peered down into it.

"France?!" England yelled in shock. Why was France here? This was too strange.

"What?" America looked up. "Oh sweet the giant looks like France!" He yelled, excited and obnoxious.

"That is France at normal size idiot!" England said.

France leaned down to look at them better.

"England and America?! Why are you so tiny?" The voice boomed. England glared at him. "Get us out of this bottle frog!" He yelled as loud as he could. France didn't hear him, his face morphing from confusion to sinister glee.

"Hon hon hon zis is perfect! Ze two of you trapped in a bottle!" France said, looking like he had an idea that England and America wouldn't like much.

"It's alright, I'll just break the glass. I watched a movie where this person had to break glass so he wrapped his hand in a cloth and punched the glass until it broke and he used the shards to blah blah blah..." America ranted on about his stupid movie while England seethed. He slammed his hands into the glass again and again, yelling a continuous string of insults at France who couldn't hear them.

Suddenly France's face changed to a truly evil expression and England stopped yelling, backing away from the glass. He knew France had a terrible idea and he didn't want to know what it was. America stopped talking about his movie and looked at England, England faced America with a scared look on his face which chilled America down to his bones. In all the time America had known England, he had never once seen him look scared. He was always sure of himself and confident but England had finally realised how powerless he was, France could do anything to him now.

There was a jolt as the jar was lifted off the ground by a huge hand. Both countries trapped inside stumbled and almost fell over. They tried to move backwards to find a wall to brace against but the bottle was moving too much. Suddenly the bottle was tipped and England could feel himself sliding, no control over his decent.

He fell against Americas side of the glass but he was prepared, he braced his hands and feet on the glass around America. With the bottle tipped he was standing awkwardly over a prone America. England blushed faintly at the terrible position but before he could readjust the glass was tilted the opposite direction. America and England tumbled to the other side, neither of them able to do anything about it. America fell against England, bashing his elbow against the glass side, his other hand was braced against the cork above his head. America's body was pressed against England's and their faces were so close together. America turned to glare at France instead of staring into England's eyes. Both had been swept off their feet and America was kneeling between England's legs, England's feet pressed against the other side of the bottle. It looked like England had his legs around America's waist. England put his hand out, desperate to find some way to stabilise himself. He pressed his hand against the side of the glass, trapping Americas arm under his. He reached up and braced his hand against the opposite side of the cork to America.

France slowly tipped the bottle at an angle, making it so they were unable to move from their position as they struggled to keep themselves from falling upwards and bashing their heads. England was blushing a bright red, very conscious of their compromising position and how America's body was pressed against his. England was having trouble breathing properly.

America pushed himself off of England and kneeled between his legs as he tried to give England some space, glaring up at France still. France simply tipped the bottle again so that America fell backwards and England was tipped into him, crashing into him full force so they fell to the bottom of the bottle, a mess of limbs. They both lay there for a few seconds, dazed by the fall, before struggling to separate themselves from each other. Before they could fully separate themselves France tipped the bottle again, sending them free falling into the top of the bottle so they both fell, tangled and trapped into the neck of the bottle. Someone called France and he put them down, leaving them twisted together in the neck of the bottle and going to take care of country affairs.

When America and England had finally worked themselves apart they were left with the puzzle of how to sit. As they were there were two of them standing in a thin bottleneck. Their legs were squished together and they had to lie back to get any personal space. England was still severely conscious of the fact that they were pressed so close together. England was now facing the other way with his back to America and he was leaning on the bottle with his elbows. His imagination had run a little wild so he was reluctant to turn around again, lest he accidentally show America how much he was attracted to him. After a couple deep breaths he felt secure to turn around so they could figure out this situation.

America decided to climb up the side of the bottle so England could get his legs out of the bottle neck and then both of them could lie down across the neck of the bottle and be decently comfortable. America made it up the steep side of the bottle and England pulled his legs out and lay down, stretching out across the hole that was the neck to brace his feet against the opposite side of the small bottle. America lay down next to him, lying the same way and staring up at the base of the bottle. They both had to bend their legs, unable to fit quite properly.

"This is rubbish." England muttered.

"My elbow hurts." America complained quietly.

"My whole body hurts from you slamming into me." England said, not exactly complaining.

"France is an ass." America stated.

"That frog is gonna pay when I get normal sized." England said bitterly.

A silence stretched between them after those words.

America broke the silence as expected but his tone wasn't obnoxious like usual, he was just quiet. "Do you think we'll be getting out of this?" He asked.

"Don't be daft, of course we will." England said, his tone lacked all of the usual sharpness.

England honestly couldn't remember the last time he and America had talked this civilly.

"Until then we're stuck in this bottle though." America stated.

"Of course." England respond.

"You held out against the Luftwaffe in the Blitz for nearly 2 months only to be stumped by a bottle?" America asked, teasing. Britain couldn't help but feel a sort of pleasure at the fact that America had noticed.

"And you dealt with Pearl Harbour but you can't deal with this bottle." England retorted, turning it on America.

"You have won several wars and you can't even beat a glass bottle." America responded.

"You're creating a nuclear bomb and you can't even get rid of this bottle." England bit back. America laughed.

"So we're both great but neither of us can deal with this bottle." He summed up.

"That's exactly what I was saying." England responded. The fact that they were lying inside a glass bottle had been moved to the back of England's mind, he was just enjoying having a (sort of) mature conversation with America.

He thought back to when he knew America as his little brother but the civil war had driven a wedge between them so big that they were no longer "siblings" they were enemies, then eventually tentative allies. It was so rare that they ever had halfway decent conversations, England hadn't even thought to count America as a friend. This type of conversing seemed so normal though, so comfortable even though they'd never really talked like this before. He enjoyed just having a conversation with America that wasn't stupid.

England couldn't remember why America had ever been his brother when clearly they weren't related at all. If anything they were more like enemies, even though they were allied together for the war.

"You know, I never thanked you." England said after a short pause in conversation.

"What for?" America asked.

"For lending your support in the war. It's fun fighting together rather than fighting each other." England answered.

"Of course. Just let me know when you're fighting a war next, I'll be there." America said.

" Well we're still I the middle of this one so don't get too ahead of yourself, but hopefully there won't be many more wars, I don't want to have to deal with all that bankruptcy." England muttered.

"I've heard from my best economists that having debt is good." America commented.

"Sometimes. I'm just tired of having no money and having to rebuild London." England commented.

"I've never had that problem." America responded.

"Yes but you're on a continent with just Canada, and Canada isn't going to start dropping bombs on you."

"That's true. Canada is a pretty great neighbour. He's even trying to help in the war!"

"I forgot about their contribution to the RAF. Yes, they are building planes for us."

"What about Dieppe though?" America asked.

"They did their part but that whole mission was a big failure." England said, a little bit saddened at the memory of how many soldiers were lost.

"Still, we really learned how to storm a beach if we ever want to do it again!" America commented.

"True. Maybe that's how we should portray that fiasco, a dry run for the real thing." England said thoughtfully.

"That'll probably make people happier than believing we actually failed." America commented.

"Thank you." England said, acknowledging that America came up with the idea.

"No problem." He responded.

The ground started shaking again and England sighed.

"Here he comes again." He said quietly.

America made a popping noise with his finger and his mouth to signify a bubble being popped.

"I'm back!" France's booming voice sang. "Miss me?" He asked, knowing full well he wouldn't hear their response.

He approached the bottle, staring at them.

"Oh zis isn't very fun, lying around like that. Allow me to spice it up for you!" France said, his evil face looming into view.

He picked up the bottle and slowly turned it so they rolled together, tumbling over each other to land on a heap at the bottom of the bottle. England untangled himself from America and tried to stand. Suddenly the cork was removed and the bottle tipped again. England landed over the neck of the bottle, planting his hands and feet so he didn't fall in, half standing in a precarious and strange way. America rolled into his legs and he lost his balance, scrambling for a grip on the slippery sides to the hole, trying to keep himself in the bottle. France grabbed his legs and pulled as he lost his grip on the slippery glass. He was pulled away from America who was thrown to the bottom of the bottle again.

France put the bottle down on the table, leaving America alone for the time being. France held England by the hips and worked at pulling off his jacket while England struggled. He ended up ripping it in half, and it fell off of England who continued to try to kick France but it did nothing. He was the size of France's finger. France dropped him into the palm of his hand and brought him up to eye level.

England didn't struggle, knowing he could do nothing. He sat there with his arms crossed, staring right back at France. He didn't notice the fingers reaching for him until it was too late and France grabbed his shirt, ripping it open, popping all the buttons off of it. He grabbed England's hands next and picked him up, dangling him over the bottle. England wasn't struggling now, terrified of being dropped from such a height. France lowered him quickly into the bottle so that he was trapped again, dropping him so he landed next to a crouching America.

France picked up the bottle and tipped it over his hand again, America and England tumbled back towards the neck. Both countries stopped themselves but France shook the bottle up, both countries rag dolled around the bottle until it stopped. America slid towards the neck and England slid along behind him. Neither of them were able to find any purchase on the smooth curve of the bottle and England crashed into America, pushing him faster towards the neck. He slid through, unable to stop himself. He couldn't move fast enough to grab the rim of the bottle and so he was dumped out onto France's hand. France tipped the bottle back again and England rolled down to the bottom of the glass, lying still for a few seconds to regain some sense of composure and to come to terms with the strange idea that he was lying on the cold bottom of a glass bottle without a jacket and no way to keep his shirt closed.

He pulled the ripped fabric around him to hide his chest and stomach, rather self conscious that he had let it go recently. Not that he'd ever had as dedicated a workout as America but he used to be very fit. He wasn't fat now but he'd gotten comfortable. He sat up, twisting around to see America. France had taken his bomber jacket off and now was ripping off his shirt. Just like with England he slid him back into the bottle. This time he corked it and tilted it again so they fell to the top again, the tightest part of the bottle. America stood on England's feet as they both struggled to right themselves.

America leaned back and pulled himself up onto the slope of the bottle, using his hands and feet to keep himself there, moving so that he wasn't stepping on England anymore but France swung the bottle, sending America free falling to crash into England. America's hands were on either side of England's shoulders. England landed against the back of the bottle, sitting in the curve. America stood between England's knees, his legs trapped in the neck of the bottle. England was trying his absolute hardest to keep his eyes locked on America's face, not his naked toned chest or abs.

"Why is he doing this?" America asked. England had a brief flashback to the time when he had been drunk and whined to France about his completely unbidden and unwelcome attraction to his used-to-be relative America.

"How the bloody hell should I know?" England asked, his shield going up with the embarrassing memory. "I don't know dude, you're close with him, I thought you might be able to guess." America said. England looked up at the huge face of France.

"I have an idea." He said slowly.

"What is it?"

"Try and move yourself so you're not standing over me." England said. America looked confused but did as he was told, pushing himself up so he was standing shakily on the glass of the neck rather than the cork, he leaned against the other side of the bottle. Immediately France tipped the bottle the other way so that England was thrown on top of America, both of them squished awkwardly against the glass. England knew now what France was doing.

"He's trying to keep us together..." England muttered, struggling to stand up.

He leaned away from America and the bottle was tilted again. France didn't seem to mind throwing them around, and then sitting and watching them. America tried to get back up again.

"Stop." England said, keeping him from getting up. America looked back at him, a not so innocent light in his eyes.

"Oh? You don't want me to move?" America asked in a suggestive tone, adding a wink for effect. England had put his hands out behind him to stop his fall in the last tilt but that just meant that he and America were standing pressed together, chest to chest, faces so close together. England was trying to ignore the fact that his legs were basically wrapped around America's as they were trapped in the neck with his now. It was a very compromising position and England knew he needed to move. He let go and wrapped his arms around America's shoulders, leaning back a little so they weren't so close together.

"If we keep moving France will just continue to throw us around." England explained, unable to keep his voice completely even, his throat rasping a bit as he felt his mouth go completely dry. He was so nervous right now, unable to be the confident gentleman he usually was while America's body was on his, bare chest so close to his face. It didn't help that he had his arms around America, touching his warm shoulders... England focussed back on France to avoid an awkward situation arising.

"Of course." America said, holding them both up. England was at a prime position to admire his biceps as they were so close to his face, on either side of his head, just a few inches away from him. England thought of ways he could get out of this, how could he get France to stop without doing something stupid? He glanced back at France's huge face, so near. He came up blank, nothing. He had only one way to end this and he knew it would make everything awkward.

"Fuck it." England said. He pulled America in for a kiss. It was messy, awkward. They crashed together, noses, lips, teeth. Not a perfect first kiss but England's world exploded. America kissed back and England didn't even think about why, he just focussed on feeling, their bodies pressed together, one of America's hands on England's back, England's arms were wrapped tightly around America, keeping them together even though they were at a strange angle. Then they were falling, weightless. At first England thought it was all in his head but when he opened his eyes he saw they were hurtling through the air. France had dropped them. England and America were now pressed against the top of the bottle, descending quickly. They were forced apart by the momentum of the fall and could only watch the ground approach, closer, closer, closer, CRASH.

England sat up, breathing heavily. The dream had seemed more real than any other he'd ever had. He could still feel it, everything. He blushed at the memory of America's mouth on his, the kiss. It had seemed so real, he had never had a dream so vivid.

"Morning."

England jumped and whipped around. America lay in his bed too, shirtless. He was on his back with his hands behind his head, stretched out and lounging with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?!" England yelled, prepared to jump out of is bed but something held him there.

"I had a crazy dream." America commented.

"So you decided to come join me in bed?!" England asked.

"I don't know why I'm here, I just woke up here."

England had no response to that. How had he just woken up here?

"I had a dream where we were tiny, and stuck in a bottle." America said.

"And France was in the dream shaking the bottle?" England asked with a strained voice, knowing that America had the same dream as him.

America sat up, his lazy relaxed attitude gone.

"Did you have the same dream?!" He asked, surprised.

England nodded, not trusting his voice as he remembered the dream and remembered his actions in the dream.

America leaned closer to England. "Completely the same?" He asked.

"Probably." England said, his voice weak.

Neither of them noticed the broken jar on England's nightstand.


End file.
